From Loss to Life
by InterdimensionalHitchhiker84
Summary: Another child is left orphaned by the struggles of the Wizarding World, but this time, the child is a squib. Eight year old Rose Weasley, separated from all she knows and holds dear, must build up a new life for herself when she is sent to live with her cold and distant 3rd cousin, Mycroft Holmes.
1. Chapter 1

_I know I shouldn't be starting more stories when I already have so many I should be working on, but I couldn't help it. This plot bunny just kept jumping on my head until I sat and wrote it down. And now, since it's all written up, why not share it with you guys?_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. I do not own Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing characters._

_Notes: This is an AU where Rose Weasley was born a squib and Hermione has two second cousins named Mycrof and Sherlock Holmes. _

_In the Wizarding World, a large movement against squibs is taking place. Some believe that squibs being born is a sign of magical degradation and people don't want them in society. As avid supporters of the opposing view, The golden trio are targeted, but Ron and Hermione, with a squib child, take the brunt of these attacks. When Ron and Hermione are killed, Hugo is sent to live with George and Angelina and Rose is removed from the wizarding world for her own protection. Sent to live with a second-cousin of her mother, Rose finds herself under the care of a reluctant Mycroft Holmes._

_Rose is incredibly smart and uses the people around her as a guide for how she should act so she can fit in. Fitting in was a skill she needed desperately as the only non-magical child in a large family of witches and wizards. Her mother and aunt helped her develop a belief system based roughly on Wiccan practices to help her find a place in the world. She had strawberry-blonde, frizzy and curly hair, brown eyes, and is tall for her age._

_This all takes place while Sherlock is away, dismantling Moriarty's web._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Grey eyes met brown as Mr. Mycroft Holmes stared at Miss Rose Weasley, who was sitting in the chair across from him, in a situation very reminiscent of the events of just a few days previous when Mycroft had met with the two people forcing this arrangement onto him. Mycroft could have turned it around of course, but as much as he disliked it, he could see the logic of these steps.

Neither of the individuals showed the emotions that would be expected in the situation, Rose sitting up straight, her freckled face unnaturally blank.

Oh course, in the same situation, Mycroft or Sherlock would have reacted much the same, but the Holmes brothers had never been ordinary children.

Taking a sip of his tea, Mycroft set the cup aside and leaned forward in his comfortable and expensive chair, bracing himself for the inevitable and soon to be forthcoming conversation. It would probably descend into screaming and tears rather quickly, knowing young girls, but Mycroft had been surprised before.

Rose Janette Weasley was eight years old, the eldest child of Mycroft's second cousin Hermione and her husband, Ronald. She had a younger brother who had, thankfully, been taken in by one of the children's many uncles at the time of their parents' unfortunate deaths. Mycroft wished that the daughter had been taken in by closer family as well, but as she was the reason for the attack in which her parents died, it was determined that she would need higher security. It was also decided that this security should be of a muggle sort and that until the matter was entirely resolved, the girl should not return to the magical world.

Of course, the children had plenty of non-magical relatives. Hermione Granger had been nonmagical-born after all. None of them, though, were capable of providing the kind of protection the girl would need at the highest levels. She would need all sorts of official documentation to start life over in the muggle world, even if it did end up being a temporary arangement, and would need to be under constant surveilance. She'd never attended school before, which meant she would need private tutors, and all of this was remarkably expensive. And as much as he wished he couldn't right now, while staring at the girl in front of him, Mycroft could cover all of those expenses without blinking.

And so it was now, that he was the only person for the job-the only person remotely qualified to care for his squib niece, the child of heroes.

Mycroft refused to sigh as he took a deep breath to begin this talk. Never breaking eye-contact with the warm, intelligent, and curious brown orbs, he summoned up his courage and opened his mouth. "Rose, your mother was my second cousin. I am sorry for your loss, but as it has already happened and your government seems incapable of ensuring your continued safety, it has been decided that you will live with me. At least for the time being."

Mycroft was caught offgaurd by her lack of reaction, but continued regardless. "I understand that this is a hard time for you, but for you to live safely here, we will need to change your last name on official documents. As a pure-blood family, the Weasleys don't exist in the non-magical world. Unless you have serious objections, we'll be using 'Holmes' for now. Before we go any further, do you have any questions?"

She looked at him seriously, wetting her lips slightly before she spoke. "What should I call you?"

"Mycroft will be fine. I suppose, Uncle, if you feel the need."

"Will I be able to see my brother or cousins?"

"Not for a while. If things have quieted down in a few months, we may be able to arrange something."

Rose frowned for the first time, dropping her gaze down to her boots. "What about school? Mum had been teaching me at home before- will I have to go to classes?"

"No," Mycroft continued confidently, causing her to look up at him again, "you will not be required to attend classes elsewhere. I will be obtaining several private tutors so you may continue your education at your current level."

Her eyes narrowed, obviously not sure about the idea of private tutors, but said nothing more on the subject. "Are there rules? Chores?"

"I don't have any chickens that need feeding, if that's what you mean, but you will be expected to keep your room clean and pick up after yourself. I will also expect you to help whenever asked. Lights out will be at nine thirty, ten on weekends, and breakfast will be at eight. I might not be here every morning, but I will try. Other rules will be sorted out when I see a need, but I expect you to make good use of common sense at all times."

"What about punishments?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Do you _plan_ on breaking rules?"

She looked up at him defiantly. "No, but sometimes children make mistakes. And you haven't exactly covered everything. I lived in the magical world. I don't know what to expect in the muggle one. At least not in a house like this."

"Ah, yes. As I said, other rules will come about when there's a need for them. You will never be punished for something you didn't know was rulebreaking, but I do not take kindly to stupidity. Anything else?"

"I'm allergic to walnuts and barley." Mycroft pushed his eyebrows together in confusion. "I just thought you ought to know."

"I'll tell the cook," he said.

Rose nodded. "Could I go to bed now?"

"Yes, of course," Mycroft said with a slight inclination of his head. "You must be tired." He stood and drained the last of the liquid from his teacup before leading the girl out of his study and into the hall. He quickly showed her to her room and indicated the door. "Let me know if you need anything."

With a forced smile, Rose nodded. Standing up on her tiptoes and placing her hand on his shoulder for support, Rose stretched up to kiss Myroft quickly on the cheek. "Goodnight, Uncle." She then entered the room and leaned up against the now closed door before he could say anything. Confused, Mycroft went back to his study.

oOo

Rose waited until she heard the man walk back down the hall before slumping to the floor against the door and putting her head down on her arms. She tried to keep her sobs quiet, but tears streamed down her face, making the tendrils of hair that escaped her braids stick to her face and make her feel even worse.

When she looked up, she found herself in complete darkness, thick clouds preventing even a sliver of pale moonlight from eluminating the room. Sniffing, she stood up from her position, feeling her muscles protest the movement. She leaned up against the door again, thinking hard. She didn't know what time it was. She needed light if she were going to get changed and into a bed. Also, she really needed to find a toilet. She knew that breaking the rules on the first night would be the worst possible way to go about creating a good relationship with her new, if temporary guardian, but there wasn't anything for it.

Whispering under her breath, she groped around for a light switch. "Bide within the law you must, in perfect love and perfect trust. Live you must and let to live, fairly take and faily give." He fingers found what she was sure must be the switch and she hesitated slightly. This was going to come back to get her. Everything returned in three, right? With a deep breath, she turned the knob, seeing a soft glow come from the overhead lights. She sighed in relief that the light was adjustable and kept it low.

The room was enormous—far beyond what she needed. The bed alone could easily fit six of her. Spotting her bags, she hurried over to them and pulled out a nightdress and her toothbrush. She only had to glance around to spot a door that hopefully led to a bathroom.

She slid through it silently, gasping at the size and impressiveness of it, but didn't stop to gawk, doing her business and brushing her teeth quickly, thanking the goddess that she seemed to be geting away with it. She splashed the tears stains from her cheeks and dried them with a soft towel before slipping back into the enormous bedroom.

She spotted a clock and jumped in near panic. It was after eleven! Scurrying over to the bed, she turned down the edge of the sheets and scampered back over to the switch on the opposite wall, memorizing the path back to the bed as she turned the lights back down to nothing.

With great deliberation, she moved to the bed that was much too big for her and slid under the covers, pulling them tightly around her

With several deep breaths and a whispered request for her mother to watch over her, she drifted off to sleep.

oOo

Mycroft sqeezed his eyes shut as he saw the slit of light under the doorway, refusing to acknowledge it. It would have to wait until morning. After all, the child could just be scared of the dark. The lights weren't on all the way.

Determined to buy some parenting books as soon as possible (as pathetic as it was to depend on goldfish as an accurate source of information) Mycroft Holmes proceded to his own room, musing about what had led him to this.

As he took off his waistcoat and then his shirt, he pondered the poor girl's situation. If he were unable to watch over Sherlock, he'd likely go insane with worry (about the country, not him. Never him). But here she was, torn away from everything she knew, both parents dead, and her younger brother far away from her. She had all the comforting, loving family she could want, but she was stuck here with Mycroft. She didn't seem to be very emotional, but she could still be in shock.

He didn't know much about mourning or emotions, either. Maybe he should pick up a book or two on that. Pulling on a t-shirt, the government official shook his head, trying to clear away the most distracting thoughts, and slid into his own bed, allowing sleep to overtake him.

o

But alas, even in sleep, there was no real rest for the elder Holmes. His mind kept spinning, jumping from three different criseses of global importance that he was dealing with at work, to the latest reports on Sherlock's wellbeing and the status of his mission, to the cousin he had met only once and the daughter she had had, to the daughter of that young woman, who was currently residing within his home.

Images and figures and facts and theories flashed and bounced through his subconsious as he slumbered, but he hardly noticed because they always had. He'd always been so much more clever than Sherlock. And sometimes he envied the peace his little brother must feel when for even a moment, the thoughts could all stop. But Mycroft Holmes knew that could never happen, and when he woke, he showered, shaved, dressed, and had a morning cup of tea, just as he did every morning.

o

Eight o'clock rolled around and Mycroft closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to stave off irritation. This wasn't going to be a purposely rebellious child, was it? He didn't think he was up to that. Waving to the cook to let her know she was free to leave, Mycroft stood up and walked to Rose's room.

Quietly pushing open the door and stepping through, he saw a spray of frizzy reddish hair covering a pillow. He came closer and found the child curled up under the blankets, sleeping soundly. There were still tear tracks down around the eyes where she hadn't quite washed them off. So, not quite as unemotional as she'd seemed.

Deciding to leave their talk for after he got home, he let her sleep, exiting the room and closing the door behind him. He quickly scrawled a note for her and left it with the housekeeper, letting the woman know that Rose should get a light breakfast whenever she woke, followed by her getting all of her things put away and that he'd be home earlier than normal.

_Unpack and put away all your things. When you're finished, feel free to read any books you find around. I'll be home around four and we'll be having a discussion then._

_Mycroft Holmes_

Grabbing his briefcase, umbrella, and coat, Mycroft stepped out into the March drizzle and slid into the waiting car.

oOo

Rose woke to a streak of sunlight stretching across the room from a gap in the curtains. She rubed some of the sleep from her eyes and looked up at the clock she had seen the night before. With a jump that would have had her falling on the floor had she been in a normal sized bed, she scrambled to get up. It was nearing ten and Mycroft had said breakfast was at eight. Her stomach grumbled. How would he feel about missing meals? Would she be allowed to eat? Would there be some other punishment?

Scrambling out of the warm bed and getting accidently twisted and tied up in the covers twice, she rushed to find some clothing and a hairbrush. She put clothing on quickly, rushing to the bathroom next to take care of business.

It took quite a while to get the many knots out of her long hair as she frantically pulled at them with her mother's old comb, and as she finally pulled her hair tightly into her normal two braids and tied off the ends, she let out a sigh of relief.

She didn't waste any time before brushing and flosssing her teeth and washing her face, then quietly, hoping to avoid any unwanted attention, though she wasn't sure why since she was going out in seach of a person anyways, she slipped from her room into the hallway.

She made her way down the stairs, the legs of her overalls making swishing noises as they brushed together, but her trainers making no sounds on the carpeted floors. She snuck into the kitchen, her head held low in shame and her bottom lip between her teeth as she prepared to apologize.

For better or for worse, though, Mycroft wasn't there. A middle-aged woman with dull brown hair and warm eyes entered the kitchen just as Rose was looking around and coming to the conclusion that she was alone.

"Good, you're awake."

Rose jumped at the unexpected sound, turning to face the new arrival quickly.

The housekeeper laughed. "Don't worry, honey, Mr. Holmes left instructions for you. Everyone knows you had a rough few days and sleeping in is probably just what you needed. Hop on over here and we'll get you some breakfast."

Rose followed obediently and sat down on a stool by the counter as the woman opened up the fridge. "What would you like, honey? Oatmeal, fruit, toast?"

"Oatmeal is fine," Rose forced out nervously.

The woman smiled, placing a glass of juice in front of her before going to work preparing the meal.

"No walnuts or barley," Rose added.

"No problem."

Rose smiled in relief and took a sip of the juice as she watched the woman work.

When a bowl of sweet-smelling porridge was placed before her, it was accompanied by a note. "Mr. Holmes left this for you. He says you should get to work putting your things away as soon as you're done eating." She smiled warmly at the child. "Would you like milk in that?"

Rose shook her head gently, frowning at the part of the note saying they would be having a discussion. What did that mean? Coming back to reality, she thanked the woman and, trying not to dwell on the note or the coming discussion, she gratefully ate the bowl of food and finished the juice before jumping off the stool. She brought her dishes over to the sink—that's where most families put them, right?-and climbed the stairs to her room. Putting things away shouldn't take long at all and she'd always liked organizing things, so maybe it would help her feel a little better.

* * *

_Let me know what you all thought, dear readers. I love hearing your thoughts!_

_Updates will probably be irregular, but I'll try my best. Also, I apologize for the long author's notes. They aren't normally nearly this long and will be shorter in following chapters._

_Thanks for reading!_

_-MP_


	2. Chapter 2

_I had a scene that I needed to get written and out of my head and that turned into a whole chapter._

_Disclaimer: Not mine._

_Warnings: brief mention of corporeal punishment_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Rose entered her room and frowned at her things, piled up on the floor. A suitcase, three duffle bags, two boxes, and a small chest. That was her life. She twisted her fingers together—a nervous habit—and sighed, wishing she could listen to music while working. Her mum had always put on lovely music while they were working and her dad had always put on really loud and obnoxious music and done more dancing and singing and playing than actual work.

The happy memories nearly brought tears to her eyes, but she sniffed and mentally shook herself, biting her bottom lip. She needed to pull herself together. Pulling a bit of string from her pocket, she knotted her two braids together and pushed up her sleeves, symbolically preparing herself for hard work. She unzipped the bags, unfastened the suitcase, and pulled open the boxes. With more noise than she intended, she then pulled everything out of these containers and dumped it all on the floor, resulting in a large heap of toys and books and clothes.

Spinning around, she located a large dresser and several shelves. She pulled open all the drawers to make sure they were empty then shut all of them but the bottom one. Turning back to the pile, she pulled out a pair of worn-out jeans. Her dad had always puzzled over the muggle clothes, but Rose had preferred them to wizarding outfits and Mum had always been fine with it. Folding the pair of pants, she carefully placed it down in the drawer.

O

Rose refused to scream—wouldn't allow herself to be so childish. Instead, she sat against the wall with her knees pulled up and held tightly to her chest and rocked back and forth as rasping sobs escaped her clenched teeth. She was trying so hard not to cry—she'd cried for hours just the night before—but as she was sorting through the things she hadn't been allowed to help pack, she couldn't help but mourn the loss of some of her most prized possessions.

The photograph of her and Hugo playfully fighting over a training broom Christmas morning was nowhere to be found. None of her photographs were in her things. The stick she'd carved with her cousins to look like a wand was missing as well. She only had one set of witches robes left—and it wasn't the set that her dad had said made her eyes light up and her hair shine. No, it was the set that made her look dull and feel awful. The itchy set with the too-small sleeve holes.

Another great sob wracked her small form and she began to hum the tune her mother had always sung to her when she was upset, trying and failing to calm herself down.

Her teddy bear was gone as well. It had been imbued with warming charms among other things. A single one of Hugo's socks was stuck in a shirt sleeve. It only reminded her of how much she missed her family. That sock was all she had left of any of them now. That sock and the necklace she hadn't taken off since the attack—the one her dad had given to her just a few weeks before.

Gripping the necklace in one hand and her only completely muggle teddy bear in the other arm, Rose gave up on humming to herself and worked on just suppressing the sobs and evening out her breathing. She counted as she inhaled and exhaled, making sure she got enough oxygen, and tried not to think.

It didn't work.

Images and sounds flashed through her young mind. Laughter and happiness and warmth, followed by screams and numbness and cold.

Rose forced herself to close her eyes as she continued to count her breathing. It hitched less and less and eventually, she relaxed, slumping against the wall as an uneasy sleep overtook her.

Ooo

When the housekeeper went to check on her young charge and collect her for lunch, what she found was saddening, though not much of a shock.

The girl was clutching a teddy and asleep against the wall. The clothes were all put away except for a single boy's sock lying in front of her and books filled two of the shelves. Other belongings still lied piled up on the floor.

Mrs. Sylvia Brindley frowned, wondering what she should do. After a few moments of thought, she scooped the child up in her arms and held her close. Bringing the girl over to the bed, she shook her head at Mr. Holmes' impracticality. The girl needed a child's bed and a child's room—not a king size in a vip guest suite. Laying Rose out on the bed, the housekeeper made sure that the bear was tucked up with her and left the room to store the food before returning to tidy up a bit, putting all of the bathroom things away and putting the rest of the toys and notebooks and art supplies on the shelves.

That child had been through more than anyone should ever have to.

Ooo

Mycroft was, without a doubt, out of his element. He read over the paragraph once more, his brows furrowed in confusion, before he pushed the book away in disgust. _These_ were supposed to be _manuals_? Burying his face in his hands for a moment, Mycroft tried to clear all thoughts of parenting from his mind, bringing the global crises that were his job back into focus.

Politely thanking his PA for the books, he dismissed her from the room and began his daily pile of paperwork.

O

When mid-afternoon came, Mycroft was more than anxious about getting home. He was tempted to delay the night's events by staying at work a while longer, but he knew it wouldn't really help, so he collected his briefcase and exited the building, climbing into the back of the waiting car.

He spent the ride trying to mix a proper helping of logic and good sense into the mess of contradicting theories presented by various 'experts'. Discipline was important, but Rose needed to respect him as an authority figure before he could get anywhere. This was reasonable, but he wasn't used to not already being considered an authority figure. Everyone respected or feared him by reputation alone. He'd have to set up clear boundaries and rules and enforce them fairly and without changing. A regular routine would have to be set up as soon as possible and he'd have to make sure he was available for her whenever needed.

This seemed a bit excessive to him. After all, he wasn't even available to the Prime Minister or the Queen whenever he was 'needed.' Repressing a sigh once again, Mycroft decided that he would just have to get along as best as he could—'wing it', so to speak.

Ooo

It was an hour after the housekeeper found and moved Rose that she jerked awake rather suddenly and had to wonder how and when she'd moved.

Scratching at the dried tear-streaks on her cheeks, Rose swung her legs over the side of the bed and stared at the things all lined up on the shelves. She thought longingly of her favorite Unicorn painting and her Hogwarts poster then shook her head violently, as if to rid herself of the thoughts. Jumping to her feet, she began determinately singing the first fast-paced song that came to mind.

"But a cat's the only cat who knows how to swing. Who wants to do a long-haired gig or stuff like that when everybody wants to be a cat?" She picked up the sock as she sang and put it in the chest with her diary, few drawings, and her mum's gold and turquoise necklace. She didn't know who had put that with her things, but for that little something, she was gratefully, even if anger at all that was missing overwhelmed these feeling of gratitude.

Still singing Disney songs with determination, she moved to the bathroom and washed her face before meeting the housekeeper in the hallway.

Rose was quickly overcome with guilt. Had she missed lunch? The housekeeper smiled, though, and suggested they get something to eat before finishing up what little was left. Rose quickly agreed and ate the disgusting salad without complaint before Sylvia (which the housekeeper had asked Rose to call her) laughed and gave her some chicken strips and a handful of strawberries to go with the glass of milk.

Ooo

When the car pulled up by the door of one of Mycroft's several homes, he took a deep breath before climbing out and signaling the driver to take and park the vehicle. Opening the door, he was greeted by quiet, an overall good sign.

He hung his coat and took his briefcase to his office. Glancing at a clock, he savored the last few minutes before four. Then, he went to the kitchen to get himself some tea, grateful that he maintained a minimum staff so he could still make his own beverages. He dripped some hard liquor into the cup and took a large sip. With tea in hand, he requested a report from the housekeeper, confirming that all of Rose's things were put away.

Moving to the library, he was pleased to find Rose following the rest of the directions and curled up in a chair reading.

"Rose," he said. She looked up at him, her warm eyes connecting with his grey once more. The light within them dimmed as she looked at him, a look of resignation crossing her face. "We have several things to discuss." Mycroft sat in a chair facing her and she quickly marked her place and set the book aside, straightening in the chair.

"Yes, sir," was all she said, so quiet it was barely heard in the silence of the small library.

"Your bedroom lights were on late last night. I'd like to give you a chance to calmly and reasonably explain why that was."

She bit her lip once more, wondering what she should say. Almost immediately, she realized that lying would be a terrible idea. "I didn't realize what time it was, Uncle. I..." His eyes seemed to be boring into her and she faltered, quickly looking down at her hands. "I was crying. Thinking about my family and... things. I didn't know how late it had gotten. I turned the lights on to find my way to the bathroom and then to the bed and then turned them right off. I'm sorry, Uncle. I didn't mean to break the rules like that. Especially on the first night." She looked tentatively back up.

Mycroft nodded. "You have had a very... traumatic few days. It was almost to be expected."

A little flash of relief shot through her, but she knew that probably wasn't all. Mycroft continued. "Don't let it happen again. Trauma or not, lights out is there for a reason. Were you to go to sleep at that time, you would be awake before breakfast." Rose looked down at her socks again, realizing that she probably looked like an idiot in striped socked with her shoes sitting beside her. "Skipping meals is not acceptable, Rose. Ever. Do you understand?"

Rose nodded quickly. "Look at me and answer please."

Swallowing, Rose looked up and struggled to meet his eyes. "Yes, Mycroft."

"Good. I am pleased that you got all of your things put away. Is there anything you require for your rooms?"

Rose was startled by the question. Could she ask for the things that hadn't been there? Both of her parents had been gryffindors. She could do this. Reigning in her family courage, she spoke. "Some of my things... weren't packed. Do you.. do you know what happened to them?"

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, not sure what she meant. "What things?"

Rose took a breath before continuing. "Photographs, my wizarding clothing, my toys and wizarding books."

Sitting back and steepling his fingers, Mycroft considered what he had just been told. He knew, of course, why those things had probably been taken, but he couldn't see the logic in it. She wasn't magical, so magical items couldn't be used to track her. Deciding quickly, he answered, "I'll look into it. I wasn't aware that your magical things had been taken. They shouldn't have."

Rose looked up at her new guardian, shocked. "Really?"

Mycroft nodded once. "As for punishments-" Rose's face fell again. "I have made several decisions. Look at me please." When Rose was once more focused on his face, her own schooled into the emotionless mask she'd worn the night before, he went on. "The main rules are to do what you are assigned when you are given the assignment and to use your brain. This applies to everything. School assignments will be completed on time and with appropriate amounts of effort, chores will be completed when asked, and you will all around do as you are told. If you act without thinking, it will be treated the same as if you had directly disobeyed me or one of your tutors. You will not be permitted to put your life or health in danger. That is paramount. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Mycroft."

He acknowledged her with a slight incline of the head. "Indiscretions on your part will be met with severe consequences to deter repeat offenses. You will always be given a chance to defend your actions, as you just were. However, any rule-breaking, justified or excusable or not, will earn you an essay, lines, or both. If you do not have an acceptable reason, you will be given a choice: you may either take a direct punishment in the form of a spanking from me," Rose's mask slipped at this point, but she quickly pulled herself back under control, only her wide eyes giving away her shock, "or you may choose to work off the offense with exercise. This will likely involve running, push-ups, jumping jacks, and the like. Privileges such as free time may also be taken away. Questions?"

Rose swallowed hard, just barely managing not to bring her knees up to her chest in a reflexive defensive position, and thought had about what he'd said. "N-" deciding speaking was too difficult with the lump forming in her throat, she swallowed again before shaking her head. "N-no, sir."

Mycroft lowered his hands and looked at her. "Are you sure? Ignorance will not be an acceptable excuse."

"Yes."

"Very well. After dinner, I expect you to begin your essays. A page each on why curfews are important and how missing meals can be harmful to you. I expect correct spelling, punctuation, and grammar. Both need to be given to me before lights out tomorrow. Unsatisfactory essays will be rewarded with the task of redoing them and an additional punishment. You will not have any say at all in any added-on punishments." There was a short pause. The books said that this would be the time when some form of physical comfort would be required, but Mycroft didn't have the slightest idea how to do that. Awkwardly, he stood, extending a hand to Rose.

She looked up at him, unsure, before taking his hand as she stood. She wanted to give him a hug. If her mum had given her a lecture after her doing something wrong, she would have hugged and comforted her afterwards. She wasn't sure if Mycroft would be okay with that though, so she just paused.

After a moment, Mycroft released the girl's small hand, hoping that physical contact would be enough. "You can continue reading until dinner, or you could show me your room and what else you need. We may be able to replace some of the things if we are unable to get all of them back.

Thankfully, before the overwhelmed young girl had to make a decision, Mycroft's phone buzzed in his pocket and he looked at the text, only to curse mildly and hurry towards his study. Sinking back into her chair, Rose let what Mycroft had said sink in. She was the kind of person who would be dying of guilt after a simple scolding. This-she felt awful and had no idea what to think. Deciding to try to put it aside, she picked back up the book, _A Midsummer Night's Dream._

Ooo

Mycroft didn't even have time to grab a drink before he rushed back out the door. He stopped only long enough to tell the housekeeper to prepare dinner for Rose at the appropriate time, reinforce that lights out was at 9:30, and ask the woman to make lists of all Rose's missing items and anything else the child would need, then walked briskly out of his home and into a car to deal with the new emergency.

Ooo

When Sylvia entered the library, she saw Rose curled up in an armchair with a book in her lap, smiling and giggling gently at whatever she was reading. Letting a smile cross her own face, she approached the child. "Come wash up for dinner."

Rose immediately obeyed, putting the book aside and standing to follow the housekeeper.

Dinner was delicious, but it wasn't keyed to a child's tastes. Regardless, Rose ate everything placed before her without complaint before placing her dishes by the kitchen sink and going to her room. She collected some pencils and a notebook of lined paper and morosely sat at the imposing desk.

Staring at the paper with pencil in hand, she tried to clear and focus her mind before beginning, _'Obeying rules such as lights out and curfew is important beyond the obvious reasons...'_

Guilt overwhelmed her as she wrote, making it hard to think, but she powered through. By eight thirty, she had rough drafts of both essays.

Sylvia the housekeeper entered the room through the open door and encouraged her to start getting ready for bed.

Knowing that she had a couple hours of editing, revising, and rewriting the essays the next day, Rose set the notebook aside and dropped the pencil into a holder. Gathering her nightdress, she retreated to the bathroom and frowned at the generic looking soaps and shampoo, thinking longingly of the one her mum had always made for her.

The young girl took a shower, not feeling comfortable enough to sit in a bath, and then pulled on her night dress, smiling at the patterns of blue flowers and green knotted vines across its surface. Picking up her comb, she moved to sit on her bed as she combed out her mass of messy and wet hair.

Sylvia came in again as Rose was combing through a particularly difficult tangle and quickly moved over to help.

"Thank you," the child said politely.

The housekeeper just smiled. "We need to get a couple of lists put together before you go to sleep." She took out a notepad and pen and sat next to the girl on the bed. "Can you tell me all of what you're missing?"

It was 9:15 when Rose, not tired in the least, curled up under the covers with a her bear and tried to close her eyes against the darkness, thinking of her mum's lullabies and her dad's stories.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! I apologize for any errors I missed-my spell check is refusing to work correctly and I had to edit everything myself quickly just a few minutes ago. Please review with all your lovely thoughts and comments!_

_-MP_


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